You and Me
by SoDamnSherlocked
Summary: Songfic to Milow's "You and Me". Sherlock experiments on John to make them grow closer. K plus because John is an ex-soldier with Sherlock as a flatmate, so he won't be able to refrain from cursing. Chapter 7 of 7 posted. Have fun reading! NOW COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

**AN: **So, after posting a couple of one-shots, I've decided to post another chapter-story which has been sitting on paper & my hard drive for what feels like forever.

This is a songfic to Milow's „You and me".

After hearing it once again, I got inspired due to a Johnlock story written by _Littlebirdlikestosing_.

Check her "Shrinking John" story out. I really really liked it :) (And I've just realized that it's been deleted as well as her profile :( Still, credit goes to her for inspiring me to write this.)

**Summary:** Sherlock and John grow closer due to Sherlock's experiments which follow the lyrics.

Just so you know: I'm not a native speaker, this is only my general knowledge of the English language, including watching TV series in English and school English. Any mistakes are made of my laziness (& stupidity) to check it and I would be glad if you could point them out, so I can correct them.

I don't own anything, I don't make profit from this, it's just for fun.

Oh, another thing: These chapters don't necessarily follow directly after one another. Now, onto the story. Have fun reading & tell me what you think :)

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><p><em><span><strong>Chapter 1:<strong>_

_I wish you smelled a little funny  
>Not just funny really bad<br>We could roam the streets forever  
>Just like cats but we'd never stray <em>

John heard a loud bang coming from the kitchen and fell out of bed. _-The hell...?-_

„Sherlock! I told you a million times not to blow up the flat!"

„The flat is perfectly fine, John. Except for my experiment."

„Oh for God's sake!" He hurried down the stairs into the kitchen to see... nothing.

„Sherlock? . ?" John asked through gritted teeth.

„I was merely testing the outcome of a mixing of chemicals. Would you mind opening the window in our living room?"

John hadn't really dared to breathe yet but he was running out of air and so he inhaled... and almost choked from the smell of the chemical cloud.

„Oh my god." He started coughing and held one hand in front of his mouth, but to no avail. It took all his will power to reach the window and open it before collapsing on the floor.

„Sherlock, what the hell is this smell? What did explode in our kitchen on our kitchen table that we use to **eat from**?"

„As I said, I was mixing two chemicals which shouldn't have reacted the way they did now. Maybe one sample was contaminated. Anyways, the smell will go away eventually and the air in here will clear in exactly 10.5 minutes. Now would you please get dressed? Or would you like your next blog entry to be called „How to catch a cold by running around half-naked while Sherlock smoked out the kitchen"?"

John looked down on himself, realizing he only wore his boxers, so he quickly jogged upstairs, took a hot shower and got dressed. By the time he got downstairs again, he could see the kitchen again. Sherlock was still sitting there and as John took a closer step, a smell caught his nose.

„Umm, Sherlock... Aren't you going to take a shower as well? You smell really bad."

Sherlock just made a growling noise and stalked by John to take a shower himself.

As Sherlock emerged from his bedroom, now fully dressed, John saw that grin on his flatmate's face that said „We've got a case" and it turned out he was able to read the git's grins like nobody else, except for Mycroft maybe, even if Sherlock would never admit it.

So John put his jacket on as Sherlock ran downstairs to hail a cab and Sherlock was already seated, waiting for John as he came stumbling down the stairs.

As they arrived at the Yard, it was eerily quiet. They went to Lestrade's office without Anderson throwing his stupidity in Sherlock's face or Donovan nagging John for hanging out with Sherlock.

Sherlock simply entered Lestrade's office without knocking and saw the DI seated at his desk, hanging over a file that covered the desk completely. He hadn't heard the door open, so he didn't look up, too deep in thought, before Sherlock and John came closer.

„What is that horrible smell?" Lestrade looked up to see Sherlock already pacing while John stood by the shelf, leaning against the wall, simply nodding at him. „How did you get in here?" Lestrade looked incredibly confused.

„We cracked the lock and snuck in. Oh, and yesterday, we drugged you so you wouldn't notice." John chuckled quietly while Lestrade's eyes got wider with every word coming out of Sherlock's mouth. And Sherlock seemed dead serious about every single one of them.

„You're not serious here, are you?" Sherlock just stared at him, not saying anything while John tried his hardest not to burst into laughter.

„Okay, I'm not gonna dig deeper here, there's just one other thing I'd like to know. What is that smell?" Lestrade got up and sniffed his way around the room, suddenly turning up his nose as he came to stand next to Sherlock.

„Nothing against your deduction skills, Sherlock, but you smell awful." He sniffed further around the room. „As you do, John. Uagh, you both desperately need a shower or two."

They looked at each other, blurting out in unison: „We just took a shower!"

„Sherlock, why haven't we been able to get rid of the smell?"  
>He looked uncertain. „I don't know. It was an experiment! You're supposed to find out what happens by doing it!"<p>

„Sherlock!" Lestrade stepped in between the two before John could jump him to show Sherlock what his bad days in the army had looked like.

„Anywho, we need you on this case, both of you. I'll text you with the address, please do not take a cab, I already feel sorry for him. And try to get this smell off you."

They left the Yard and went through the streets, the wind blowing, helping the smell drift away.

Sherlock had solved the case in one hour (it had been the sister's husband, how dull) and as soon as they had entered the flat, both of them went to their bedrooms, only mumbling a simple „Goodnight" and took showers of half an hour. In the end, their skins were red, but they'd gotten rid of the smell eventually before John drifted off to sleep while Sherlock's mind wouldn't shut up, so he was awake all night.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> So, this was the first chapter, overall it's going to be 7. I'm trying to upload this once a week, depends on my working schedule.

Do let me know what you think.

See you,

Love, xxx

SoDamnSherlocked


	2. Chapter 2

**AN:** First of all: Thank you to _Waffle_ for the review. I'm glad you liked the first chapter, so here is the second one. I hope you like this as much as the first one.

I was so immersed in writing something else, that I almost forgot posting it . But I managed 2 1/2 pages in the past 2 days, so that one is going along nicely; which gives me hope to being able to share this with you asap :)

Credit for inspiration still goes to _Littlebirdlikestosing_ even though she won't read this anymore.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own shit. I wish I did. But I don't.

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><p><em><span><strong>Chapter 2:<strong>_

_I sometimes wish you were a mermaid  
>I could raise you in the tub at home<br>We could take a swim together  
>On weekly day trips to the bay<em>

„Okay, Sherlock. What is it?" John was sitting in his chair, looking at Sherlock who was lying on the sofa in his blue dressing gown, sulking. He had his back towards John, but he knew something was terribly wrong even without needing to see the detective's face.

The answer he got was only a muffled murmur and so, John tried again.

„Sherlock, what is wrong now?"

At this, Sherlock turned around to face John and looked slightly sad. But that was just John's opinion, of course, Sherlock never looked sad, he doesn't do emotions.

„I'm bored and you won't participate in my newest experiment I'd finished yesterday."

He turned around again and John would've thought he was pouting and behaved like a five-year-old. Again, Sherlock would have disagreed, just for the record.

„How would **you** know?" Sherlock turned around again, facing John while sitting up.

„Because you never do or if you do, against your own will, you are always mad at me after that, even if I fix everything." Sherlock turned around again, **not **sulking, thank you very much.

Somehow John couldn't stand seeing Sherlock like this. So he sighed audibly and Sherlock flinched before he recognized that John was grabbing his hand, pulling him off the sofa.

„So, Sherlock, tell me what this is about."  
>"You really want to know?" Enthusiasm and happiness were two things John could make out of Sherlock's voice. It made John smile before he simply nodded.<p>

„There is a serum I've made and I need to test it on someone with muscles who is preferably male and you are the only one I can think of."

John smiled to himself, but of course, he would deny that.

„Okay, why not."

As he saw Sherlock jump up and down as if he was a little child on Christmas morning, or Sherlock Holmes being called to search for a serial killer, you get to chose, he didn't know how much he would regret this answer later on.

So Sherlock injected something and John laid down. It wasn't long before he fell asleep on the sofa.

As he woke up again, John looked down on himself, realizing he had a big tail fin, covered in scales, his chest was covered by a bikini top made of two shells, just like the one „Arielle" always wore.. He tried to breathe, but found he couldn't do it for long, so he got on his stomach to somehow get to the bathtub – army style. No, he still hadn't forgotten how that worked.

As he somehow had managed to manoeuvre himself into the bathtub, he filled it with water and felt better immediately.

„Sherlock! Get in here **right now**!"

He heard steps coming towards him, stopping shortly, but then picking up again and seconds later, Sherlock stood in the door frame, looking bewildered.

„Sherlock, what the hell have you done to me? I look like Arielle the mermaid, except for the long red hair!"  
>„I didn't think it would work, John. I never believed you would actually turn into a mer- man, or whatever."<p>

„Are you telling me that **this**-" John gestured himself up and down „is something you didn't know about? Now how about that? The great Sherlock Holmes had no idea **that** was going to happen."

John made the sarcasm drip from every circle of the letters in these sentences.

„Are you going to turn me back to normal or am I supposed to stay in your bathtub for the rest of my life?"

„Working on it!" was all he heard from the kitchen probably, John wasn't sure.

What he didn't hear was Sherlock flopping down on the couch, once again getting in touch with his mind palace, finding himself in his memorable thinking position.

After some time which felt like an eternity to him but was in reality only half an hour, John got bored.

"Now I know how Sherlock feels" he grumbled.

"John, did you say anything?"

"Yes, I was wondering when I'll be normal again!"

Sherlock was still lying on the sofa with his fingers steepled beneath his chin, but not in his mind palace anymore. "Soon, now please be quiet, I need to think."

John let out a huff but otherwise remained quiet.

Sherlock shot up into a sitting position and grabbed his phone from the table. He dialled and after some seconds Sherlock heard an all too familiar voice on the other side of the line.

"Brother dear. To what accident do I owe this pleasure?"

"How's the diet? Don't answer that, it doesn't matter nor do I care. I need a car with a whirlpool **now**."Sherlock growled the last word and he could practically hear and see Mycroft smile before him.

"What have you done this time, Sherlock?"  
>"Nothing", he lied and hoped it was convincing.<p>

"Fine, I'll send you a car."  
>Sherlock hung up and went into the kitchen, trying to get an antidote for John. He did look ridiculous.<p>

As he heard a knock on the door, Sherlock heard John groan before panic seemed to set in.

"Sherlock, no! Whoever the hell it is, you're not going to let them upstairs! I'm going to kill you!"

Sherlock knew right then and there that he shouldn't push his luck. John was serious about his threat and he was already pissed about having been turned into a male mermaid.

So he went downstairs, yelled some to John incoherent words at Mycroft's men and as he came upstairs again, the door to the bathroom shot open.

"Sherlock, what the-" He stopped shouting as he saw his flatmate standing in the door frame holding a blanket in his arms.

John narrowed his eyes. "Sherlock. . ?"

"I thought you might be bored, so I got you one of Mycroft's cars with a whirlpool to take you to the beach. Yes, I know it's going to be a long ride, but that's why I ordered a car with a whirlpool, John."  
>John's eyes had widened with every word he'd said as had the smile that now was spread across his face.<p>

"You asked your brother a favour because you thought I'd be bored?"

Sherlock let his head hang and nodded once, short and only slightly.

"Sherlock?" At the soft tone of John's voice Sherlock's head shot up again and he held his gaze.

"Come here." Sherlock did as told and as he reached the bathtub, he felt two strong arms wind around his waist, the warmth of John's upper body seeping through his clothes as he dropped the blanket to embrace John.

"Thank you, Sherlock." He pulled back and smiled seeing Sherlock beam at him.

Sherlock picked the blanket up and wrapped it around John before lifting him up.

"Sherlock, what are you doing?" John giggled.

"People would ask questions seeing you with a tail fin and a shell-bra, don't you think?"

John's giggles subsided but only slightly as Sherlock carried him downstairs. As he walked past a questioningly looking Mrs. Hudson, Sherlock simply shot her a quick glance, saying they were leaving for a while and went out the door, kicking it shut behind him. He carried John to the car and sat him down in the whirlpool in the back before he slid into the back seat.

John sank into the warm water and felt his muscles relax immediately. He let out a content sigh that didn't go unnoticed by Sherlock who found himself smiling at the sound.

They drove for quite a while, both lost in their own thoughts.

Sherlock had the now slightly wet blanket folded in his lap. He looked down at it, pulled at one corner and inhaled the scent John had left on it. He closed his eyes and let the wonderful smell that was uniquely John, regardless of him being a merman, fill his senses.

Even though John had been wrapped in it for what had been barely minutes, the scent was so strong it wasn't only that it felt as if he was right next to him, but Sherlock also felt his mind go numb.

For him, the ride was over way too soon. As the car came to a halt, Sherlock buried his nose in the blanket and inhaled one last time before he got out.

John felt the car stop and the engine go off what snapped him back to reality.

Sherlock carried John into the water before he said "I'm gonna go".

"Why?"

"I thought you wanted to go back to normal. I've got to get home to work on the antidote."

Sherlock could have sworn he'd seen a sad look flash across his flatmate's slash blogger's slash merman's face before he turned around.

"The car will pick you up again in a couple of hours."

Sherlock got back into the car and with one last glance at a disappearing John, Sherlock closed the door as the car drove off. He leaned back in his seat and as his hands fell beside his lanky body, he could feel the fabric of the blanket he had wrapped around John before carrying him downstairs to the car.

Sherlock looked down at it, his hand slowly gliding across the fluffy dark blue fabric before grabbing it to hold it beneath his nose.

It smelled like John, it smelled like home. It shocked him but he felt warm inside his body, sniffing the big blue piece of fluffy fabric. It felt like John had been left at the sea a lifetime ago although it had most likely been only half an hour. Sherlock felt a shiver run down his spine and he unfolded the blanket, wrapping himself in it up to the nose because the smell of John was just so good.

Wrapped in a feeling of pure John, Sherlock let his head fall back against the seat and soon after closing his eyes, he felt his mind shut off.

"Sir? Sir? We have reached your destination." Sherlock groaned and untangled himself before he neatly folded the blanket again. He carefully picked it up and left the car, running up the stairs to their flat. The fact that John's smell had made his mind shut of for some time got his brain now working even harder. It was distracting him from getting the antidote ready before John came home. So he put everything in the large room labeled "John" in his mind palace and closed the door to get to work.

He found it done after 1 hour, 56 minutes and exactly 46.9 seconds and even though this experiment got him a blanket smelling like John, he wanted – no, needed – his blogger back the way he was. Carrying him to their crime scenes was just not going to happen.

Sherlock let out a huff. John was most likely enjoying himself, swimming with the fish and _breathing under water_. Dull.

But after the work had been done, Sherlock felt something missing again. Secretly, Sherlock hoped John would come home soon to make him watch crap telly after he'd returned him to completely human John Hamish Watson. So he had to stop himself from jumping up and down, celebrating "Christmas" as he heard the front door open. He stayed seated at the kitchen table, looking uninterested.

One of Mycroft's men, Sherlock had always called him Larry, was coming into the flat with a sleeping John in his arms.

He got up and took John in his own arms. "I'll take it from here".

'Larry' nodded courtly and went downstairs. Only a few seconds later, he heard a car speed off.

Sherlock felt John stir and so he quickly carried his blogger to his bedroom, laid him onto the bed and spread his favourite blanket over John.

He had missed him, but for now, it was enough that he was back home again. And that his bed would smell like John, because Sherlock really liked how he smelled.

Silently, he walked out of the room and flopped down on the sofa. He would wait until John woke up again which would most likely be in exactly 5.3 minutes, considering the fact that he had fallen asleep during the ride.

Sherlock waited before he heard John yelp and ran back to get him into the bathtub.

Sherlock let the water run as he went into the kitchen to get the antidote. "Drink this. Don't ask, just do it!"

John did as he was told and it barely took a minute for him to get his original form back.

"That... was quick." John chuckled and somehow Sherlock couldn't help but laugh along.

"Thank you, Sherlock. I really appreciate what you have done for me today." He stood up, careful not to slip as he stepped out of the tub, pulling his completely mad maniac of a flatmate into a hug.

At first, Sherlock's arms hung limp at his side, not really knowing what to do. But as he felt the warmth of John's body seep through his clothes to warm his own body, he reciprocated. They stood like this for a while before John pulled back to look at Sherlock and smiled. Sherlock smirked before John let go, said goodnight and went upstairs. Sherlock murmured goodnight shortly before John had reached the door frame. He didn't turn around, so Sherlock wasn't able to see him grin. Sherlock stood in the empty living room. He picked the blue blanket off the floor and went to his bedroom, inhaling John's scent. As he flopped down onto his bed, he wrapped himself in the blanket with one edge pulled up to his nose. He felt a slight drowsiness and soon after, his mind shut up and he fell asleep.

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><p><strong>AN: <strong>I hope you have surfaced from the fluff. This was by far the most difficult to write, which is why I've written this last. I hope I did a decent job.

I think this could actually be Sherlock courting John :D

Have a wonderful week, see you next monday :)

Love, xxx

SoDamnSherlocked


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: **I'm going to dedicate this chapter, though definitely far from flawless it may be, to _lisa. ryanz1oh1_, because she was just so sweet about another fic of mine, I was smiling like an idiot (Which is what I do every time someone tells me they like what I do). She told me to not be Mofftiss and let her wait for something new from me, so blame her for getting weekly updates on this thing because at first, I wasn't sure if I should post this, because I had better ideas which aren't done yet.

Oh, and you should read _Unconditionally Always _she's written. Beautiful Johnlock, rendered me speechless.

So, I hope you like this, even if only half as much as my other story :)

Have fun reading!

**Such not own.**

**So sadness.**

**Much cry.**

**Wow.**

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><p><em><span><strong>Chapter 3:<strong>_

_I wish you were a little bigger  
>Not just big but really fat<br>Doors you would no longer fit through  
>In my bed you would have to stay <em>

Since last night had been a success, however small it may be, Sherlock decided to take it one step further. He wanted John to understand how much he wanted him. So he stood up and went into the kitchen, because how hard could it be to make tea? It looked easy every time John did it and Sherlock was a genius for God's sake! (If he believed in something as trivial as a God, that is).

As he heard the whistle of the kettle go off, he filled John's favourite experimentally unused cup. Just as he sat down on the sofa again, one cup in hand, the other on the table, he heard steps come down the stairs.

"I heard a kettle go off. Did you make tea? For the both-?" He stepped into the living room and looked at Sherlock incredulously.

"You didn't even sleep, did you?"  
>"John, I only slept three days ago. Do you want me to adopt the sleeping habits of a sloth?"<br>"No, because I know you're never ever going to sleep enough, Sherlock!"  
>John stared daggers at him, but his flatmate didn't even look up. "And I know you'll never be like a sloth because you are way smarter than them which is why they can get so much sleep, unlike you."<br>John now smiled and as he looked at Sherlock, he saw his definitely mad flatmate smirk.

John stepped towards his chair, took his cup of tea and sat down, sipping.

"This is really good, Sherlock. Thank you."

Sherlock's smirk now broadened to a full-blown smile and John found a real Sherlock-smile highly contagious, so he couldn't help but let the corners of his mouth be tugged upwards as well.

They both drank their tea, now completely silent.

Sherlock went over his plan on how to bind John to home today. He had the pill prepared but how was John supposed to take it?

Thinking it over, Sherlock thought it'd be best if he squashed it to mix it beneath his food. A subtle approach to make John cook so he'd only have to hide the pill from John. Easy.

"John?"

His blogger said nothing, but merely looked at his flatmate to show him he was listening.

"I was thinking... Maybe we could have breakfast together. And before you ask: Yes, I'm going to eat it, but only if you cook." Sherlock smirked as John raised his eyebrows before smiling and nodding.

_-Way too easy...-_

John got up and quickly turned around to take a shower and get dressed before taking to cooking their breakfast. While John was in the shower, Sherlock quickly squashed the pill to get a powder he could mix beneath his food.

John emerged from his bedroom exactly 10 minutes and 45 seconds later, dressed in a beige jumper and jeans and found Sherlock lying spread out on the sofa. He didn't think anything of it, so he went past his flatmate into the kitchen to get some food on the table.

While John was busy cooking, Sherlock figured he'd need some distraction to mix the pulverized pill beneath John's food without him noticing. Sherlock thought about that while John was clinking pots and dishes.  
>Suddenly, Sherlock shot up from his position on the sofa and started pacing the whole flat, except for the part upstairs.<p>

"Sherlock, what are you doing?"

"Experiment, John!"

John almost didn't want to ask, but curiosity won him over and he did it anyway.

"Do you need my help?"

"You're already helping me, John. Don't worry!"

John didn't ask further and went back to cooking, hoping Sherlock wouldn't blow anything up in the meantime.

There was silence for some time before John jumped to the sound of a loud bang, followed by the sound of something breaking. Just as he was about to run to Sherlock's room, yelling at his flatmate about what he'd said about NOT blowing up the flat, he heard his mad flatmate yell from his room supposedly.

"Nothing happened! I just stumbled and fell!"

"Are you okay?" He couldn't help but worry.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

The answer sounded convincing, so he left it at that, for the time being at least.

So John went back to cooking while Sherlock hopefully left the flat whole. It was silent once again, but not for long, as another loud band was heard, along with a groan that was definitely Sherlock's.

John, who was almost done with getting the table done, immediately dropped his spoon and ran towards Sherlock. As he ripped the door open, he saw Sherlock sitting on the floor next to a pile of shards, blood dripping from his right hand.

"SHERLOCK!" John flopped down in front of him, gently taking Sherlock's hand in his own to look at the wound. "What happened?"

"I cut myself on one of the shards when I wanted to pick them up."

"Come with me, I'll get that fixed up." John slowly shook his head and took Sherlock with him to the kitchen. "Wait here, I'll get my kit."

As John left the room, Sherlock shot around to mix his powder beneath John's plate of food before turning around again just as John came back in again.

"Now let me see how bad it is." He gently took Sherlock's hand again to clean the wound. "This will hurt a little." Sherlock didn't even register what John had said, he only hissed shortly as John ran the pad with disinfectant over the cut.  
>"This won't need stitches, but I'll wrap it in gauze to make sure the pain wasn't for nothing." He smiled and Sherlock found he was already addicted to John's smile. It definitely was contagious.<p>

John quickly bandaged Sherlock's hand and then went to sit down, hoping dinner hadn't cooled off since he'd put it on the table.

"Eat, Sherlock. You promised!" John feigned anger and Sherlock smirked before digging in.

They both ate in silence and Sherlock timed when John would get extremely tired and fall asleep before he would blow up like Bibendum.

John felt a drowsiness wash over him and he got up to walk towards his bedroom.

"Are you alright?" Sherlock feigned innocence.

"Yeah, just a little tired. Be a good flatmate for once and do the dishes, please." He walked through the door and shouted "I'm off to bed."

Sherlock smiled to himself and quickly went to get the dishes clean again, so he would have more time to enjoy John's condition.

As he was done, he went upstairs to John's room and found him already blown up.  
>"Sherlock? Did you tamper with my food?"<p>

"What? No!" Sherlock shot him a shocked look. "You cooked the food. Maybe you put something in there that you're allergic to."

"Hmm..." John felt his eyelids droop again as Sherlock stepped closer to the bed.

"Scoop over, John. I want to lie down beside you."

John looked at him questioningly. "What? Why?"  
>Sherlock shot him that "You-know-it-don't-play-dumb"-look, but answered anyway as John still looked at him the same way.<p>

"I want to cuddle." Now John's eyes widened even more.

"Sherlock... are you alright? You're not sick, are you? Because this doesn't seem like you at all."  
>Sherlock shot him the "don't play dumb, John"-look and rolled his eyes before laying down, pushing John aside and answered "I'm perfectly fine whether you believe me or not. I just want to lay down here and cuddle."<p>

"O-kay..." Sherlock turned towards John, laying an arm across his stomach, using John's shoulder as a pillow and snuggled closer. As he sighed in contentment, John let his hand fall onto Sherlock's arm and they fell asleep.

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><p>As John woke up, he saw Sherlock staring at him.<p>

"You do know this is incredibly creepy, right?"

"I am aware of people saying that, but what do I care? People call me a freak anyways."

"I don't."

"Yes, John. You are the exception. You are always the exception." As he said that, he quickly strode out of the room. John simply ignored Sherlock's outburst, too happy to being back to normal and too exhausted from today's events, so he let his eyes fall closed once more.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> This isn't my favourite chapter, but I thought I could do it like this.

Just for clarification: Bibendum is the mannequin you see in commercials for Michelin tires. In Germany, it's called Bibendum as well (I researched that), but I only called it Michelin-mannequin, because I didn't know better.

I hope you liked it, let me know :)

Have a lovely week,

xxx SoDamnSherlocked


	4. Chapter 4

**AN:** I wanted to thank each and every one of you who reviewed, favourited, alerted or even just read this or anything else what I've written so far. It makes me incredibly happy to see that people actually bother with my stories, you have no idea :)

_So thank you so very, very much. I love you all so dearly :)_

This is probably by far my favourite chapter because imagine John as a bird ;)

**Disclaimer:**

**Such not own.**

**So sadness.**

**Much cry.**

**Wow.**

Have fun reading and tell me if you liked it.

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><p><em><span><strong>Chapter 4:<strong>_

_I often wish that you had feathers  
>I'd keep you in a giant cage<br>All day long I'd sit and watch you  
>I'd sing for you and that would be okay<em>

What had he done? John woke up and tried to get up but he found he couldn't. He was lying on his back and as he tried to scream, all that came out was a quiet chirp.

_-What the...?-_

As he looked down on himself he saw beige feathers covering his whole body.

_-Sherlock! Goddammit!-_

He fought hard, flapping his wings until he found himself flat on his stomach and chest, trying to get on his „feet". As he was standing on his bed, he clumsily tried hopping off it, but fell forward again. He flapped his wings again to get back up, his feathers flew everywhere, falling to the floor.

Johnnybird carefully tried jumping down the stairs without falling down and as he realized he'd succeeded, he hopped towards Sherlock's room since the detective hadn't been seen anywhere in the kitchen or the living room. He wanted to knock but how can you if you don't have fingers?

Well, to be exact, he kind of did have something that used to be fingers, but those weren't of use anymore, thanks to the evolution.

Anyways, John tapped his beak against the wooden door of Sherlock's bedroom, hoping the detective was wide awake for once to recognize him. After a couple of minutes of silence on the other side of the door, John was tired and tried his wings.

_-Can't be that hard now, can it?-_

So he flapped his wings again, trying to get some air between him and the floor and after several futile attempts, he managed to get as high as the door handle. He jumped on it, but John just wasn't heavy enough to get the door to open. So he sat down on the handle, flapping his wings but not getting up into the air, chirping like hell. Sherlock should've heard him, there was no way he could have overheard or ignored that much noise. But he must've been far away, deep in his mind palace, because after five minutes of constant noise-making and being-annoying, John was about to give up when he heard footsteps coming up the stairs.

_-Good, old, sweet Mrs. Hudson. Thank heavens for that lady.-_

„Sherlock? John? What are the two of you up to again?" The steps stopped in the middle of the living room before Mrs. Hudson peeked around the corner into the kitchen.

„Boys?" Then John heard her mutter something and he chirped to get her attention.

She turned around and as soon as she saw him, she called again. „Boys, there is a bird in the appartment! Would you mind telling me how it got here?" As she didn't get an answer immediately, she picked the little bird up and wondered that it let her.

„Oh, you are a cute little birdie, aren't you?" She patted him, startled by the fluffiness of the feathers. And John simply let her because _-oh God, yes- _he did enjoy it.

He stayed on Mrs. Hudson's hand as she raised the other to knock on Sherlock's bedroom door. She heard a humming on the other side, so she opened the door and saw Sherlock sprawled out on his bed, eyes closed and fingers steepled together under his chin.

„What is it, Mrs. Hudson?" He hadn't opened his eyes, but knowing him, neither birdie-John nor Mrs. Hudson were surprised anymore.

„There was a little beige bird sitting in front of your bedroom door, tapping his beak against it. It tried to get in." At this, Sherlock shot up into a sitting position, setting his staring gaze at the little fluffy feathery ball seated on Mrs. Hudson's hand.

„What is **that**?"

„I just told you, Sherlock. I found this little bird in front of your door. Look at it. It's got the same colour as John's favourite jumper."

At this, Sherlock shot up from the bed to come to a halt right in front of Mrs. Hudson, eying the small beige ball of feathers. He looked at it suspiciously for some seconds before he took it in his hands, saying „Yes, thank you, Mrs. Hudson. I'll take care of him." He hushed her out of the door, before he put him down on the kitchen table to eye him suspiciously a bit more.

„John?" The bird's head shot up and Sherlock knew that this small ball of beige feathers was indeed his usually a little taller and less feathery flatmate.

„Chirp, chirp, chirpy-chirp?" It was angry since it sounded as if it was screaming at Sherlock, trying to ask him what he'd done.

„I know, John! I know this isn't the way you usually look. And it wasn't supposed to be like that. **You** weren't supposed to be a bird, John! The test tube must've been tampered with. I'm sorry, John."

„Chirpy?"

„Yes, John. I'm sorry that you look like that now." Sherlock went over to the couch, flopping down on it. John made use of those wings he now owned and flew over to sit down on the armrest of the couch.

„Chirp, chirp, chirpy-chirp, chirp."

„You want me to play for you on my violin?"

„Chirp." Sherlock stood up and got his violin, tucked it under his chin and began to stroke the bow across the strings. Wonderful music filled the air, it sounded sad, almost as an apology for the state John had found himself in. But the bird just sat there quietly, watching Sherlock play and sway to his own music. The bird seemed content, given the circumstances, he just enjoyed the music until the bow made one last stroke across the strings. Birdie-John looked up at Sherlock and he seemed happy. So Sherlock played some more until John's eyes fell closed and Sherlock put him on a pillow where he let him sleep. He took the pillow with him to his bedroom, closed the window and put the pillow on the end of his bed before he laid down and covered himself with the blanket. He watched John sleep before exhaustion finally got the better of him and he mirrored John's action, or better non-action.

As John woke up the next morning, he found himself on Sherlock's bed, curled up and dressed in a jeans and a beige jumper. He looked up and found the bed empty, so he got up and went into the living room in search for the owner of the bed he'd just woken up upon.

He found Sherlock seated at the kitchen table, staring through his microscope.

„Morning, Sherlock." The only answer he got was a quiet short humming without Sherlock looking at him. John went past Sherlock into the kitchen to put the kettle on. They would talk about this over tea. So he made tea, took both cups to the living room and put Sherlock's on the table before he settled down on the sofa, sipping his tea. Looking up expectantly, John's gaze met Sherlock's and the detective came over to take his cup and sit down beside John.

John kept looking at Sherlock while he locked his gaze onto the smiley on the opposite wall. John cleared his throat before he found the courage to speak up.

„Sherlock? How did that happen yesterday?"

He didn't answer, he simply kept staring at the wall. John wasn't going to let him go that easily, so he put his hand on Sherlock's shoulder to make him turn towards him, but Sherlock jerked around at the touch, so John recoiled.

„Sherlock? How-?"

„I heard you perfectly fine, John." He turned to face him. „You want to know how that happened?"

John merely nodded. „Fine. I did it on purpose, okay? Happy?"

Sherlock set his cup down and tried to get up and leave but he felt a grip on his left wrist. „Don't..."

He turned his head and looked John in the eyes. „Why not?"

John didn't know how to answer that, so he loosened his grip on Sherlock's wrist and eventually let go. Sherlock turned his head again and went to his bedroom, locking the door behind him. He didn't come out again until the next day.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: <strong>I just love the idea of John being a bird, that would be so cute :)

I hope you enjoyed, see you next monday.

Much love, xxx

SoDamnSherlocked


	5. Chapter 5

**AN:** It's Monday, I hope you're excited for the new chapter :)

To be fair, I didn't manage to get John plugged in, but paralyzing John is something Sherlock is definitely capable of. I have to say, I really like this chapter.

All I'm going to say is: **FLUFF!**

I hope you like it, let me know :)

**Disclaimer:** Still no own. #sadface

* * *

><p><em><span><strong>Chapter 5:<strong>_

_I wish you were a little slower  
>Not just slow but paralyzed<br>Then I could plug you into a socket  
>So you could never run away <em>

John was fast asleep as Sherlock quietly made his way upstairs. He didn't hear him open the door and sneak in. Sherlock's moods of not talking to himself when he was aware that John was asleep gave him everything one needed to be a deadly unpleasant surprise. But that's what he was as a consulting detective, wasn't it?

He stopped dead in his tracks, expecting to see the light flicker on as John suddenly shifted and talked. But after some seconds, John was quiet and Sherlock dared to breathe out again. He looked at John who was snoring happily beneath the sheets.

With one quick and single movement, Sherlock pulled the syringe out of his pocket, rammed it in his neck and injected whatever had been inside it.

Before John could have even dreamt about waking up to find him in the middle of the room holding an empty syringe, Sherlock went back into his room as fast and as quietly as he had come up.

As John came downstairs the next morning, Sherlock didn't notice any changes in his flatmate's behaviour or his movements.

_-What the...-? Why didn't it work? Had the dosage been too low? Have I missed the vein? Had the mixture been wrong?-_

Going through the process again in his head, he didn't hear John curse in the kitchen.

"SHERLOCK!" Said called or better angrily yelled for person jolted and looked around. He saw his flatmate standing in the door frame, brows furrowed together, looking impressively angry.

He didn't move and as Sherlock was practically run over by this fact, he felt the left side of his mouth twitch upwards so quickly and shortly, John missed it.

_-It does work! Must've been John himself fighting it, so it took longer than I anticipated.-_

"Are you okay, John?"

"No, Sherlock! I'm not OKAY!"

"What is it then, John? Tell me, what is wrong with you?"  
>"Don't pretend, Sherlock! You know bloody well what's wrong with me! Undo it! NOW!"<p>

The last word came out as a threatening growl and although he had an advantage now with John not being able to move, Sherlock knew better than to argue with that small ex-army-doctor-package covered in muscles.

"I can't undo it now, John, but it will go away."  
>"When?" <em>-Again this growling. Why?-<em>

"Tonight. You should be able to move again tomorrow."  
>"Why?" John seemed to be quite fond of words consisting of only one syllable now. Sherlock was about to ask "Why what?", but John was faster, surprisingly, given his current state of paralysis.<p>

"Why did you paralyze me, Sherlock?"

_-Why does he want the reason to everything I do?-_

"Tell me, Sherlock. Right now!"

"Would you please stop growling? It's highly irritating when I'm trying to find out about the reason or the reasons and the way of presenting it or them to you. Plus, it is not comfortable or in any way useful for your voice."

"Yes, thank you for this incredibly important information, Sherlock. How about simply telling me, you know, using your amazing brain to form words and then using your rude mouth so I can hear them?"

Sherlock was quiet for a moment, considering his options and thinking about the results of lying or telling the truth. Lying would lead to a probability of 100% for John being "incredibly and utterly pissed" at him, which was the equivalent of being yelled at and, later on, completely ignored.

Coming to the conclusion that John would be "happier", even if only slightly, if he told the truth, Sherlock settled for that option.

"You were going to leave me, John. And I didn't want you to, at least not today." Sherlock walked over to John, picked him up and carried him over to the sofa, sitting down beside him.

"Sherlock, I have to go to work, you know. And most of the time you don't even realize I'm gone."

Sherlock looked down at the floor and John would've said he looked sad and guilty.

One last time, John: Sherlock Holmes doesn't do emotions. Do try to keep that in mind, now would you?

It was rare, but Sherlock looked at him again, eyes glistening (with tears?) and said "I felt it yesterday and I didn't feel so good. To be honest, the skull isn't half as good for company as you."

John looked him in the eyes, that he was still able to do, and asked "Are you trying to tell me you, Sherlock Holmes, Mr "I don't have any friends" and "Alone protects me", missed me?"

"No, John!" Sherlock looked at John indignantly. "Don't be an idiot! Of course not! I'm a high-functioning sociopath, remember?"

"I do remember you saying that, but I don't believe it, especially not after what you've just told me."

Sherlock put his "I know what you're thinking and no, it's not like that"-look on and threw it at John.

"You might be able to fool Anderson" A snort interrupted him "Donovan" and another one, just not quite that loud "or Lestrade, but you can't fool me. I know you, Sherlock, but I also know how people react when they miss someone."  
>"I'm not people, John!"<p>

"I know you're not like everybody else. I know you're special. But I don't believe you're a sociopath, not for one bloody second!"

Sherlock wondered why John was still able to look so goddamn angry even though he was paralyzed when John let himself fall sideways so his head was in Sherlock's lap. "Crap telly?"

John tried to smile and his pillow smirked as he reached for the remote control to turn the television on.

They sat or rather lied on the sofa watching crap telly almost all day with Sherlock complaining how stupid it is and John, while his paralysis subsided, agonizingly slow, telling Sherlock to order some food.

"We don't have a case right now, I'm starving, you are losing a lot of weight and I can't feed you because I'm paralyzed. But you are going to eat!"

"And what about you, John?"

He tried to look at him but still found it impossible due to the paralysis, so he kept looking straight forward.

"I'm just gonna feed you. Your organs are functioning properly regardless of your state."

So Sherlock went to order some food, the delivery boy almost jumped when he opened the door because he usually never does, like ever.

Sherlock just smirked, closed the door and murmured some kind of insult before going back to John. Sherlock sat down and pulled John up into a sitting position before placing the food on the table. Sherlock took John's fork and fed him in between taking forks of his own food so John couldn't complain about him not eating.

Some of the sauce on John's noodles didn't reach his mouth but stayed next to it. As Sherlock wanted to feed John some, he started laughing.

"What is it?" John swallowed. "Why are you laughing?

"You have... um... something there."

Sherlock scooted a little closer, raised his hand to John's face and wiped the sauce off with his thumb. As he licked it off, John's paralysis seemed to have gotten worse again as he sat there dead still, staring at Sherlock.

"What? Do I have something on my face now?"

John didn't answer, he simply let himself fall against his flatmate, staring into his eyes. Sherlock tilted his head so they ended up with their foreheads pressed together. John closed his eyes, even as he felt his head being tilted upwards before he felt something soft and warm against his lips.

Sherlock felt John relax, the paralysis subsiding as both gave in to the kiss, losing themselves in each other. There was something in Sherlock's stomach. It was weird but it was definitely not a bad feeling.

As Sherlock broke the kiss for air, –_ breathing is so damn dull – _John opened his eyes again.

"What was that?"  
>"I believe it's called a kiss, John."<p>

John let out a groan as he saw Sherlock roll his eyes at the obvious answer to John's superfluous question.

"No,... I meant... why?"

Sherlock looked at him. "You initiated it, John."

He stopped breathing for a second as he realized that he was right – well, when is there a time this incredible intelligent git isn't? - and not longer paralyzed he motionlessly walked upstairs, closing and locking the door behind him.

Sherlock knew he wanted him now.

_-Please God, let him delete this.-_

He tried to get some sleep as he had stripped down to his boxers before pulling the blanket over him up to his chin.

While he knew John was not going to get any sleep, Sherlock didn't even try as his mind whirred about John until he realized it was already morning.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:<strong> Thank you again, to everyone who read/ reviewed/ favourited/ followed. I love you all, you make me smile every day, seriously.

See you for the last two chapters in the next two weeks :)

Love xxx

SoDamSherlocked


	6. Chapter 6

**AN:** So, this is the chapter I've written first since this one is closest to the story that got me the idea and I love mini-John ;)

I know I was supposed to upload this yesterday already, but my laptop was being a bitch, so now that I'm home from work, you get this.

Hope you like this, it's pure fluff :3

Let me know what you think.

Love, xxx

Nina

* * *

><p><em><span><strong>Chapter 6:<strong>_

_I really wish that you were smaller  
>Not just small but really really short<br>So I could put you in my pocket  
>And carry you around all day<em>

As Sherlock came out of his room the next day, he found John curled up on the sofa, still fast asleep. He got a blanket out of his room and draped John in it.

Sherlock went into the kitchen to check on the last idea he got to get closer to John, found it not ready yet and turned around to get a quick shower.

As he came back into the room, John still hadn't woken up, so Sherlock went into the kitchen to make tea and get his experiment sorted out. As the kettle boiled, John stirred and Sherlock poured the water into the mug and put a bag of John's favourite brand into his favourite mug before adding his newest experimental fluid.

John woke up as he heard Sherlock fiddle with the mugs and shot up from the sofa, falling off it. His army senses still worked 24/7, so he was up again, darting around the room before his eyes locked with Sherlock's.

"Sherlock..." John still sounded half-asleep and Sherlock had to admit to himself he found it rather sexy, but of course, he would never tell anybody, least of all John. "What are you doing?"

"I wanted to make tea, John. Also made you a cuppa, no need to thank me."  
>John went over into the kitchen and took his mug from Sherlock's hand, sipping it and humming lightly.<p>

"God, that's good. Thank you very much, Sherlock. You even made me my favourite brand and I now have my favourite mug in my hands. Thank you, I really appreciate it." He smiled at Sherlock and got a small smile in return, before Sherlock turned around and flopped down on the couch.

"Sherlock, would you mind scooping over a bit?" Sherlock shifted a little so John got some space to sit down next to him.  
>He didn't dare to look at the shorter man as he felt the cushion shift. He heard a little squeak before the mug fell to the floor, spilling the tea across the carpet.<p>

A high pitched only lightly audible voice reached Sherlock's ears as he heard John yell at him "What the hell have you done, Sherlock?!"

The voice went more quiet with every spoken word. Now Sherlock dared to turn his head in search for a tiny John with surprisingly tiny clothes on.

"Sherlock!" The high pitched quite quiet voice was highly irritating, but it made Sherlock enjoy the view of Mini-John even more.

"Relax, John. You're going to be fine." He took him off the pillow he was currently sitting on and put him in his breast pocket.

"No, Sherlock! I'm not going to be the mascot you're carrying around in your pocket! No!"

"Do you want to stay here all day? You won't be able to make food & tea, let alone turn on the tv."

John sighed and had to admit Sherlock was right. It was hard enough getting all the stuff from Tesco's having his usual height, but this? He did have a point.

"Fine" he grumbled, not really satisfied, but he didn't really have any other choice.

Sherlock's phone chimed and he jumped up in glee, so John had to hold on to Sherlock's pocket.

"Easy, Sherlock. Case?"

"Yup, let's go." He hurried down the stairs while putting on his coat and scarf and John found himself wrapped up in Sherlock. The scent was partly tea, partly something he couldn't and wouldn't want to identify, probably something experiment-gone-wrong related and one part was just purely _Sherlock_. It was undeniably a scent that he started to lo- like.

Although John didn't wear a coat, since he didn't own one his now-size, he wasn't cold. Sherlock and his clothes warmed him enough and he felt all warm and fuzzy inside.

But he was so not going to admit to any of that. No. Not a chance.

Sherlock hailed down a cab and they went to Scotland Yard. Sherlock strode through the hallways towards Lestrade's office with that flawless walk where his coat fluttered after him, giving him something dramatic. John had found it incredibly annoying but fitting. Now he tended towards unbelievably sexy. But he was definitely not gay and he would never ever dare tell Sherlock. Absolutely no way.

He opened the door and Lestrade looked up at Sherlock, visibly searching for John as the detective interrupted his train of thought.  
>"I brought John with me, but you can stop searching for him behind or next to me because he's small."<p>

"I know he's not really the tallest guy on earth, but I'd still be able to see him. He's not that small and my eyes are still good enough."

"I shrunk him."

Lestrade's jaw dropped and he stared at Sherlock, simply not believing what he was saying. "No way!"

Sherlock reached into his breast pocked, pulling out a squealing and kicking Mini-John dressed in his usual beige jumper and jeans. "Yes way."

"Sherlock, what the hell-?" John looked up and saw a giant Lestrade looking at him with wide eyes and a jaw that was reaching the floor. Sherlock sat him down on his hand on eye-level as Lestrade kept staring.

"He is not going to grow back to his normal size again by being stared at, Lestrade. Case?"

He looked up. "What? Oh, yeah right. Case. Double murder, not far from here, no leads... Sherlock what the hell-? How did you-?"

"Yes, I shrunk John, which I already told you and you know quite well how much I hate repeating myself. And I produced the fluid that led to this condition. Could we now please visit the crime scenes?"

Lestrade shook his head to get out of his reverie and nodded, still staring at Mini-John. Sherlock put him back in his pocket despite John's kicking, and protesting yelling and they went off.

Lestrade was driving the car with Sherlock in the seat next to him constantly hissing at Mini-John who kept trying to climb out of the breast pocket he was captured in.

"Let me out, Sherlock! What the hell are you doing? No, leave me be! Keep your gigantic hand off me! No, stop it! Let me down, right now! SHERLOCK!"

It went on like this during the whole ride to the crime scene. Lestrade felt like as if his hair had gone even more grey than before in the past 25 minutes he'd spent with the two for today.

John was back in the pocket which was moving by itself now it seemed as he was still kicking and shouting abuse at Sherlock. "John, stop it! We discussed this. And you're raising way too much attention!" John stopped his kicking and shouting and Sherlock exhaled audibly.

Lestrade went ahead as Sherlock strode dramatically behind him, his long coat swirling around his long, slender legs. John peeked his head out from the pocket to look at the crime scene before them.

Sherlock crouched next to the body on the floor while John tried to climb out of the pocket.

"John." He looked at him, earnest, though it was kind of difficult to stay serious while looking at Mini-John who looked at him with an equally serious look on his face. Sighing he said "Okay, tell me how he died, then get back into my pocket. I don't want Anderson to step on you, alright?"  
>John smiled and Sherlock saw him nod before he whispered to him "Quick!" and John jumped off Sherlock to run towards the body without Lestrade noticing. Sherlock went on as if nothing had happened while out of the corner of his eye, he observed John's every move.<p>

John pretended not to notice and went to work. Two minutes went by with Sherlock circling the body, crouching down next to it every now and then and mumbling inaudible stuff to himself before John went back towards Sherlock. He looked around and placed his hand on the floor so John could climb onto it and lifted it up to his pocket where John disappeared again into.

"Needle puncture in the neck, so I'd go with drugs."

Sherlock smirked. "I knew it. Lestrade?" He turned around and the DI stepped over to him. "He was drugged. There is a needle puncture in his neck, so he died of an overdose. Of course it was the wife because he was having an affair with her sister. The sister didn't know and the wife only found that out this morning. Go arrest her, my work is done here."  
>He twirled around and left before Lestrade even had a chance to say anything.<p>

"I'm not gonna ask how you know it was the wife just by looking at the body." John laughed.  
>Sherlock smiled as he hailed down a cab to get them back to Baker Street. As he climbed inside the car, John hopped out of the pocket to sit down next to him. The driver didn't notice and Sherlock spoke hardly audible as he talked to Mini-John.<p>

"Sherlock, when will I be my normal size again?"

Sherlock answered immediately. "Most likely tomorrow morning. Though I can't tell you exactly because you are the test object for my shrinking potion."

"So, who is going to feed you then?"

Sherlock groaned but he thought better than to discuss with Mini-John because he found the voice would be quite annoying if John pondered him trying to get him to eat. "I am going to make something and we are going to eat it."

John looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "Really?"

"Really."

The ride back to the flat felt short, probably shorter than it actually was and as they arrived, John was put back into Sherlock's pocket and Sherlock threw some bills at the cabbie before getting out of the car.

As they entered the flat, Sherlock went into the kitchen to put the kettle on while trying to find a cup that was small enough for John to hold. So he took out a schnapps glass and divided the tea in two before putting it onto the table. He sat John next to it and took his own cup before he sat down opposite John. Both started sipping their tea and as John had finished the first half, Sherlock gave him the second glass to drink as he sat down again, looking at John. "What?"

"Where am I going to sleep? I'm gonna suffocate lying in my bed, covered with my blanket."

Sherlock took some time to think about that question before he got up and disappeared into his bedroom. He came back with a small pillow and took off his scarf.

"You're small enough to sleep on this and my scarf will keep you warm." He smirked and asked John where he wanted to sleep.

"Uhm... I don't know?" But Sherlock simply picked him up again and carried him as well as the pillow and his scarf into his room. John just rolled his eyes since discussing or fighting would be to no avail, so he let it be. Sherlock put the small figure onto his night table, placing the pillow next to him and supposedly waiting for John to lay down. So he obeyed and laid down on the pillow next to Sherlock's bed. Just as he did that, Sherlock covered him with his blue scarf and discarded his own clothes before climbing into bed.

"You will sleep right there. If anything happens, you won't be able to defend yourself being this tiny. So, I will be awake or wake up to be able to protect you just in case."

"Sherlock..."

"No discussing! Now go to sleep, I'm fairly certain you are tired." Sherlock smiled at John and the blogger snuggled deeper into the pillow, pulling the scarf tight around himself and up to his nose, secretly inhaling the scent of the curly haired detective. He was indeed tired, so it didn't take long until his eyes drooped and he fell asleep curled up in Sherlock.

Sherlock turned around and as the sun started seeping through the curtains, he counted down and just as he reached zero, he heard a thump, followed by a groan.

"Good morning, John." There was a smile visible in his words.

Another groan followed as an answer to Sherlock's greeting and as John got up, Sherlock smiled.

"You are you again, John, now more than ever."

His blogger looked down at himself and quickly covered the most important body parts with a pillow before hurrying off to his own room, bright red in his face.

Sherlock smiled to himself as he saw John running off.

_-Maybe..., just maybe...-_

He got up and went into the kitchen, waiting for John while he put the kettle on.

"I'm not going to drink this, Sherlock! Not after what you did to my tea yesterday!" The shout came from John's bedroom and shortly after, the clothed figure of the ex-army doctor appeared in the doorway to the living room.

Sherlock stepped back from the counter, his hands in the air in surrender and went into the living room to flop down onto the couch. John fiddled in the kitchen, preparing tea and as the kettle boiled, he filled two mugs and brought them over to the table, setting one in front of Sherlock before he flopped down into his chair.

Sherlock watched John silently sipping his tea before he grabbed his own mug, enjoying the fact that John just _knew_ how he loved his tea. As the warmth filled his body, he felt John's gaze on him as the blogger put his cup down, leaning forward.

"Why, Sherlock?" God how he hated this goddamn question now. He almost hated is as much as Mycroft and Anderson.

Now there were only two possibilities: Lying or telling the truth.

Lying would result in John getting angry since he knew when he lied, they've known each other for too long now. And Sherlock didn't want John to be angry at him, quite the opposite. He wants him to be happy. _-Damn you, emotions!-_

If he told the truth, John could either tell him he loved him as well, with a probability of 85% or he could storm off into a pub, get drunk or just walk around avoiding him.

So Sherlock chose the second possibility, there was a higher chance John wouldn't punch him or ignore him for days or even weeks. And he just blurted it out.

"I wanted you near me, John. I wanted you to be closer to me than anyone else in this world. I wanted you close to the heart that you proclaim I have. I wanted you with me all the time wherever I go. And I was selfish enough to want you all to myself."

"You shrunk me because of this?"

Sherlock looked up again as he felt John step closer. There was a flicker of something in his eyes, but Sherlock couldn't detect what it was. Anger? Hurt maybe? Or embarrassment? Could be all three or something entirely different.

Sherlock's mind raced through the possibilities, so he didn't notice how close John had come now. And as he realized the non-existent space that was between them now, he could feel John's soft lips lightly touching his own. Sherlock's mind had a short circuit and he only felt everything go blank.


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: **So, this is the final chapter of this story.

First off, I am very sorry, this is up too late, but I was at work longer yesterday and when I came home, I was extremely exhausted from work and the weekend because my dad had to go to hospital again. He is really sick and I have to juggle work and appointments, eating, sleeping and learning for my driving exam, so this is me apologizing for not posting this on time and having to refrain from writing for a while. I can't say when I'll be able to come back to it yet, but I'm trying to get my driver's license asap.

I'll stop with the rambling, you don't want to know, do you?  
>Have fun reading!<p>

* * *

><p><em><span><strong>Chapter 7:<strong>_

_Oh you and me  
>It would be only you and me <em>

"Hold on a second."  
>Sherlock broke the kiss, holding John at arm's length. They looked at each other, John surprised, Sherlock puzzled.<p>

He looked John in the eyes...

_-Pupils dilated...-_

...took his pulse...

_-...way too fast...-_

...and felt his breath on his skin.

...s_hallow, erratic...-_

"John?"

John didn't answer, instead he pulled Sherlock down for another kiss.

Sherlock, surprised at first, now gave in and tangled his long, slender fingers in John's hair.

He kissed back and felt John tug him even closer to deepen the kiss.

As they broke for air, Sherlock gasped "Why?". _-Great, now I've used that question.-_

"Because it's only you and me." And John tilted his head, got on his tiptoes and let his hand wander to Sherlock's dark, soft curls to pull him down once more. "You amazing idiot. All you had to do was ask."

Just as John had finished that sentence, Sherlock's phone chimed. He looked at John.

"Go ahead. Answer it, could be a case!" He winked in an attempt to impersonate Sherlock the first time they met, pecked him on the lips once before letting go. Sherlock turned around, grabbing his phone from the table.

Sherlock smiled, turned towards John again and tugged him downstairs while rambling about the double murder having become a triple murder.

John started smiling at his incredibly intelligent yet completely mad flatmate or whatever they were now. Grabbing his jacket, he let Sherlock tug him outside. As the crazy yet amazingly lovable man hailed a cab, John couldn't help but smile as he made him turn towards him.

John got on his tiptoes, cupped Sherlock's jaw with one hand and placed a short but loving kiss on his lips. As John pulled back, Sherlock opened his eyes, smiled at John and opened the door.

He slid into the backseat, Sherlock sat next to him, close, and their intertwined fingers resting on their thighs. Sherlock murmured the address and they drove off.

As they stepped out at the crime scene, Sherlock didn't walk ahead like he used to, but he walked right next to John, close enough so John's shoulder brushed Sherlock's am more often than just occasionally.

Sherlock groaned when he saw Anderson crouching next to the body and he yelled "Get that idiot away from the body! Better yet, get him away from the crime scene! I'm not quite certain but it's a high possibility that the culprit paid him to destroy evidence." John heard the smile in Sherlock's words.

Just as Anderson turned around, inhaling, John looked at Sherlock, smiling, who simply nodded and John yelled "Shut it, Anderson! You lower the IQ of the whole district!" Sherlock turned them both away from a sulking Anderson, John looking up at Sherlock, a question mark visible on his face.

Sherlock took a quick look around, cupped John's face in his hands and pulled him in for a kiss.

"That's why I love you" Sherlock said when they broke for air, their foreheads resting against the other's. "And more" he quickly added.

"I love you too, you incredibly lovable madman." John shortly pecked Sherlock on his mouth, both carrying a smile, before he shoved him towards the body. "Come on, let's get whoever did this."

Sherlock crouched down, stood up again after a minute and yelled at Lestrade who had come up to them, that it was the son –_ obviously – _and Sherlock rattled off his deductions as the son arrived at the crime scene.

Before Lestrade could say anything, Sherlock had already grabbed John's hand, running after him.

"You and me" John said and smiled at Sherlock as they ran off.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:<strong> I hope you liked this short, incredibly fluffy installment. Please do let me know what you think/ thought, I still read all reviews and try to answer and I'm happy for every single read :)

So, this is me saying goodbye for now. I hope to get back to writing very soon.

Thank you for all your love :)

Love, SoDamnSherlocked aka Nina


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